


The Red Dress

by QuidditchMom (eibbil_one)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-16
Updated: 2010-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eibbil_one/pseuds/QuidditchMom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione in a red dress, Harry in denial. Here's what happens when the two mix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Red Dress

"No chance in hell, Ginny."

Hermione stood staring at the full length mirror, her mouth open in shock. Either Ginny needed glasses, or she was completely off her rocker. Right now, she was thinking the latter.

"What's wrong with it?" Ginny asked, her tone convincing no one of her innocence.

"It's shag me red, it's two sizes too small, I'm about to spill out of the top, if I sit down, I'm going to give the entire room a view they're not likely to forget...shall I go on?"

"Hermione..." Ginny started, and then quailed under the gaze of the other witch. Vaguely, she wondered if Hermione had learned that one from McGonagall. She put what she hoped looked like a contrite expression on her face and walked over to the pile of clothes Hermione had originally worn.

She threw up her hands in surrender. "All right, all right. I just thought you might want a change from the usual frumpy dress. I mean, we have this party every year, and every year you dress like a library matron. But if that's what you want, I'll let you change back."

As slyly as she could, Ginny picked up the offending tan dress, careful to hook one corner on the nail poking out from the footboard and pulled. The sound of ripping cloth filled the room.

"Oh that damned nail," Ginny sighed. "I keep forgetting to fix it and now it's ruined your dress."

"Not a problem." Hermione smiled, reaching for her wand.

"Oh, but..."

"Virginia Weasley," she said, sounding, and looking, even more like the Transfiguration teacher than she ever had. "What, exactly, is going on?"

Ginny sighed again and sat down on the bed. Draco was right, Hermione was never going to fall for such a simple deception. Not that she'd ever tell him he'd been right. She's spend a lifetime trying to live it down.

"Are you happy, Hermione?" she asked, deciding to level with her friend.

"Of course I am. I have a job I love, I'm surrounded by friends, and I'm healthy."

"How about love?" Ginny pushed.

Hermione opened her mouth, then clapped it shut again. That much was true. Her love life left much to be desired. A handful of unsuccessful relationships over the past few years had left her feeling a bit low. "That one I'll grant you, Ginny. But I'll find him, it just takes time."

Ginny batted down an overpowering urge to shake her. Why couldn't she see what everyone else in the wizarding world did?

"You've already found him, you twit." When Hermione merely looked puzzled, Ginny actually growled. "He's been by your side for the past twelve years, Hermione."

She actually watched Hermione come to the slow realization of who she meant.

"Not Harry," she said, sounding wistful, but resigned.

The smack of Ginny's hand to her forehead filled the room nearly as loud as the ripping dress. "Yes. Harry."

"Give it up, Ginny. He looks at us precisely the same way. Like we're his little sisters. And he'll never see me as anything else." Her voice carried no self-pity, no angst; just the traces of hard fought acceptance. Ginny, who had been watching Harry watch Hermione for years now, had decided that tonight was the night to change all of that.

"Well, I'd say that dress is step towards altering that perception, wouldn't you?"

*^*^*^*^*^*^

Harry draped his cloak on the great heaping mass of multi-colored cloaks already piling up in the Malfoy's entry hall. He knew he was horribly late, but the latest blazing row with Janine had taken a lot out of him. But at least it was over now. No more fights, no more tears. And no more unfounded accusations about him killing time with her while he was really in love with someone else.

 _Honestly,_ he thought, _as if he had feelings for Hermione._ And to be quite frank, he was getting bloody tired of that particular argument. He didn't have feelings for her. Well, of course, he loved her. Just like he loved all of his friends. Hermione was just...Hermione. He didn't think there were words in the English language to describe how he felt about Hermione. Sure, he dreamed about her. And yes, sometimes they were erotic enough that he called out her name in his sleep. But that happened to everyone. It had nothing whatsoever to do with denied feelings, as Janine had implied.

He grabbed a glass of wine as he passed the refreshments table and scanned the room. It looked like Draco and Ginny had the usual overwhelming turnout for their yearly Hallowe'en party. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he saw the wide assortment of witches and wizards in Muggle attire. Ginny had come up with the idea a few years ago when she'd been in America on assignment. She'd been enchanted at the multitude of little girls dressed as witches. She decided then and there that she'd hold a party of her own - where the witches dressed as Muggles. Wizards, too.

His contemporaries had done a better job at dressing themselves than those at the Quidditch World Cup years ago, but not by much.

He was just about to head toward Ron when he saw the brunette. She was wearing, or almost wearing, a skin tight red dress that left little to the imagination. Not that the wizard dancing with her was trying to imagine much.

Then he spun her out of his arms and he saw the witch in full. From the top of her bushy brown hair to the spiked heels covering her slight feet.

It was Hermione.

But it was Hermione like he'd never seen her. Hell, it was Hermione like _no one_ had ever seen her.

Just then, the wizard she was dancing with pulled her back into his arms and began to glide slowly with the music. The orchestra had just switched from a lively song to a slower, more intimate one. Someone walked up to Harry and said something, but he didn't register it. His eyes were fixed on Hermione and he couldn't drag them away. The mad pumping of his heart didn't register either.

The wizard holding her casually dropped his hands down from her waist to caress her backside and Harry felt something in him snap. Without pausing to ask himself what the hell he was doing, Harry dropped his wine glass and stalked towards her. He didn't even hear the shatter.

In one scant minute, he was at her side and had grabbed her arm.

"Harry, what are you...?"

"Excuse us," Harry growled to the other man whose mouth was open in shock.

She waited until they were outside in the cool of the gardens before she spoke. In the short time it had taken them to cross the dance floor, she'd worked up a healthy anger. But in honor of their friendship, she held the string of expletives in check and concentrated on reigning in her temper.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Harry said quietly, but Hermione could hear the underlying tone clear enough.

"I believe it's called dancing. Or was, until you dragged me out of there."

"I meant with the dress you're wearing...or almost wearing. It's...it's indecent."

Hermione felt her heart sink. _Great, Ginny,_ she thought, _we've gone from brotherly to fatherly. Next thing, he'll be patting me on the head and telling me to run along._ And then, it was all too much.

"Fine, Dad. I'll clear my wardrobe with you next time, shall I?" Head high and shoulders squared, she walked past him without a glance.

The next thing she knew, she was up against the stone wall of Malfoy Manor's terrace with Harry's tongue in her mouth. That last bit took a moment to register. Harry was kissing her. Not on the cheek; not on the forehead. But a real, honest to God, tonsil inspecting kiss.

Her heart swelled, her stomach clenched, and her mind ceased processing anything except the here and now. She relaxed slightly, tentatively wrapping her arms around him. Memories of a hundred vague dreams of kissing Harry flitted through her mind. But this was not the shy caress she'd imagined. This was a bruising, a branding, almost a punishment. His tongue was thrusting in and out, tasting every corner of her mouth. His hands were fisting painfully in her hair as he tried to pull her mouth even closer to his.

Emboldened, Hermione let her hands drift onto Harry's bottom and pulled him to her. Harry groaned and pressed back. She felt his reaction, but was too caught up in her own to reason it out. All she could do was enjoy the heat of him nestled between her legs. He pulled his mouth from hers and she whimpered at the loss. Their eyes met and burned into one another's. Without a word, he tightened his arms around her and she felt the familiar sensation of Apparition.

When they were alone in one of the bedrooms, Hermione opened her mouth to say something...anything. But Harry obviously didn't want conversation. There was a wild, almost feral gleam in his eyes, magnified by the round glasses that covered them.

Then a rush of air hit her as he tore the bodice of her dress down the middle and fastened his mouth on her straining nipple. She couldn't help it. She screamed. She'd known infatuation, she'd known desire. She'd known physical love.

But until that moment, she'd never known lust.

Because it was lust that was rushing through her like an out of control train. That was the only explanation for the sudden, overpowering need to have Harry's skin on hers, to have his taste in her mouth...and to have these things now. Her hands fisted in his shirt and she ripped downward, sending buttons flying like bullets. Her nails raked down his chest, grazing the erect nipples and eliciting a moan from him.

Harry was doing magical things with his tongue at her breasts, traveling from one taut peak to the other, alternating between licking, suckling and nibbling. Hermione felt her back arch, her body trying to get closer to the intense pleasure of his mouth on her. He cupped one breast while adoring the other and the waves of sensation were crashing over her relentlessly. Her breasts had never been this sensitive before and she couldn't help but wonder if it was Harry's technique...or if it was just that it was Harry.

Her fingers, shaking as the desire mounted within her, finally reached the trousers separating her from what she wanted most. Part of her wanted to tease him through his clothing, but her blood demanded contact. Her hand plunged into the waistband, not stopping until she had his length in her grasp. Harry's mouth left her breasts and he threw back his head on a moan of pure ecstasy. With one hand surrounding him, she used the other to undo the trousers and push them from his hips. When he was free of them, she began to move her fingers, exploring every bit, centimeter by centimeter.

Touching was fine, but she wanted his taste. That should have surprised her, as she had never initated oral sex with a partner. But right then, past sexual encounters meant nothing. All that mattered was now. All that mattered was Harry. Hermione dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth in one swift move. Harry moaned again and began to shudder. As he had alternated in technique, so did she. Her mouth kissed and caressed, sometimes using her tongue to stroke the underside of his erection, sometimes kissing just the tip. She could hear his ragged breathing and felt a thrill of feminine power she'd read about, but never experienced. Harry began thrusting in time with her strokes and her hands reached up to cup him as he moved. She tasted the beginnings of his release just seconds before he pulled away from her completely.

Before she could protest, she was prone beneath him on the bed. He paused only to kiss her once, then moved his mouth down the length of her body. Unlike the clumsy lovers she'd had before, Harry did not go straight for her center. He took his time, building her slight ache into a raging need. He suckled at her breasts again, he dipped his tongue into the hollow of her navel, he placed tiny kisses down the side of one hip, he kissed along the inside of her thighs. She was near pleading when she felt the tip of his tongue graze her swollen lips. He took as much time there as he had with her breasts. At first it was feather light kisses, then long, slow licks almost as if he wanted to leave no inch of her unexplored. When he began to nibble at her clit, she arched her hips off the bed and pressed her sex harder towards his face. Need was building within her and she nearly came apart when Harry inserted two fingers and began stoking them in and out slowly.

"Harry..." she cried out as her body began screaming for release. It was the first word spoken since he'd kissed her.

Then he was covering her again, his erection poised at the opening that was weeping in want of him. He pushed forward in one smooth, slow stroke until he was buried to the hilt. He didn't move for a moment and Hermione's eyes fluttered open. In the light of a nearly full moon, she could just make out his face. She saw the same wonder in his eyes that she felt in her heart. The completion, the sense of fullness. Not just him filling her body, but filling her soul as well.

The kiss he placed to her lips was so gentle, so perfect, she knew she'd never know it's equal.

When he finally began to move, the frenzy she'd felt earlier was gone. Harry moved his hips languidly, building her slowly back towards release. Harry slid a hand between them to stroke her center, driving her closer and closer. Her hands were on his back and when Hermione felt the tremors begin she sank her nails into his skin as pleasure overcame every cell within her body. Her orgasm brought on his, and he thrust one final time spilling himself into her and crying out her name.

They remained joined as their senses slowly returned to normal. Ragged pants became deep sighs and clenched hands changed to slow caresses.

"Harry?" Hermione said tentatively, almost afraid to break the magic of the moment. But the reality of what they'd done was just dawning on her. The reality...and the repercussions.

"Mmmmm," he replied, tightening his arm around her and bringing her mouth to his.

"What was that?" she whispered, her brain a little fuzzy from the latest drugging kiss.

He looked amused. "Well, some people call it making love, some call it shagging..."

Hermione stopped him with a playful swat. "I know that, you git. I meant, why did we...did you...um..."

"Honestly, Hermione? I haven't a clue. I saw you in that dress, and that guy's hands on your arse," Harry moved his own to caress it, "and something snapped."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Maybe it wasn't the guy, maybe it was the dress. Maybe it was Janine telling me just hours ago that it was over between us because she was tired of me kissing her and wanting you."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry..." she began, then cut herself off. "No, I'm not. She wasn't right for you. She just wanted to be on your arm, not in your heart."

"There's no chance she would've been anyway," Harry said, threading his hands through her hair and pulling her lips to his.

"Why is that?" she whispered, her eyes already closing in anticipation.

"Because it's too full of you. There's no room. I'm realizing now that it always has been."

Their lips met, their tongues caressed and Hermione felt Harry hardening again inside her.

Much, much later, after the last guest had departed, Ginny and Draco made their way upstairs and stopped dead at the threshold of their bedroom. Harry and Hermione lay there, clearly asleep, with their arms and legs entwined.

Ginny grinned and Draco scowled. "There are fifty bedrooms in this place, why'd he have to choose this one?"

"Hush," his wife admonished, "you'll wake them."

"Wake them?" he spat, but in a lower tone, "they're in our bed."

Harry and Hermione, who were wide awake and listening to every word, laughed silently as Ginny led a grumbling Draco to one of the spare bedrooms.

"Think we should leave?" Hermione asked, running her fingers through Harry's already mussed hair.

"He'll get over it," Harry grinned. "I'm not quite ready to leave, are you?"

Hermione snaked her hand down under the sheets and met his arousal with a grin. "Not quite."


End file.
